Zille Defeu’s Fetish Fantasies

Posts Tagged ‘submissive thoughts’

Well,
to continue with the caning … I was still quaking in my spandex after the last series of Six-O-The-Bests, but the final twelve were yet to come. This was back to the Senior cane, which would have seemed like a walk in the park after the last cane (the bamboo root one!), but there was not much real estate left on my bottom that wasn’t hot and weal-ed. So the cane strokes either came down on the already well-battered skin on my bottom, or on my thighs, which were not very marked, but which always hurt so much more!

By the end of that I was squealing and blindly trying to swim away through the air. It always amazes me that his fingers resting ever-so-lightly on my back keep me firmly in place no matter what the level of pain.

Then – my reward! Yes, if you’re thinking, “Alright, this is Zille, so she means ‘anal sex’,” you’d be right! I’ve been begging him for cruel anal sex: just using me for his own pleasure, whilst I whimper in pain (or at least varying levels of discomfort!) and I think it’s been hard for him to entirely be sanguine with it. When he fucks me, he wants me to go soaring into pleasure with him – and, mind you, I appreciate the sentiment! It is the irony of the universe that so many guys are careless lovers who “just take,” and I fantasize about that, while having a caring and involved lover, to whom my pleasure matters deeply.

Of course, if he wasn’t that person, I couldn’t trust him with the sort of play we do. How deeply ironical that it’s only because I know he is not truly like that, that I can long for him to be, and beg him to pretend to be!

But, because he does care about my satisfaction, he betook himself to use me roughly and get as much pleasure from it as possible. I know, some of you are thinking, “Oh, poor guy gets the world’s smallest violin from me!” but the fact of the matter is that when he’s fucking me and I’m screaming in pleasure, he can just let go and enjoy it 100%. When he is forcing his cock into my ass and I’m whimpering in pain, he has to pay attention to what he is doing, so he doesn’t injure me – and that is a distraction, he cannot let go 100%. (Of course, being me, I think a solution for this is that he practice a whole lot, and then it can become second nature and he won’t have to think about it anymore!)

Anyway, it was a period of wonderfulness. As he pushed into me, some inner masochist part of me sighed, “Oh, now this is pain I can really get into!” I revelled in the pain like a pig in mud, begging him sotto voce, “Please … use me … please … enjoy this fully … please … hurt me….”
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I was just whinging on my other blog, when events overtook me in a very ironic way. Thought you all would appreciate:

There’s a back story to this: some years ago, when we were still very intensely Master and slave — things having mellowed

——————————Amusing ironic cut——————————
Of course, just as I type the above, my Master called to me from the other room.

“Sweetie?”

“Yes, Sir?”

“I’d like help sleeping now.”

He meant, a pre-nap blow-job.

I immediately got up and gave him one — no thought of saying, “I’m writing a blog post — I’ll come and do it when I’m done!”

He may now call me “Sweetie,” instead of “Girl,” but some important things remain!

——————————End amusing ironic cut——————————

Anyway, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted [grins] — things having mellowed somewhat since then…

Hope you are all having good weekends! I’m off to try and improve ours!

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Well, you lot, I apologise for being away, but I’m afraid I have an excuse. I’ve written about it here, and all future writings about that topic will be over there, too.

No, I’m not being all cryptic. My Master was in a bad car accident, and I am going to be dealing with the ramifications of that both over here (how this will effect our M/s relationship, his “physio-therapy” of getting able to spank and cane me again, etc.) but all the non-kinky stuff I’ll be putting over there.

Happily, I have good and kinky news already. My Master got out of the hospital this past Thursday, and last night I was able to give him a blow-job and he was able to come. This is not a small thing, because he was catheterized for a while (sadly, not a fetish of his!) and that can interfere with all of the manly tubing. Also, I had to very carefully not bang into or put weight on anything broken, fractured, or bruised, so it involved some creative gymnastics on my part. (Yay yoga!)

Finally, it was a week to the day after his accident, and he has been through terrible shocks to his physical and mental systems, so it would not be weird or even a bad sign if he couldn’t come. Indeed, I told him it was a no-pressure blow-job, just me giving him some pleasure for a while, c’est tout.

That he trusted me enough with his newly fragile body not only to do it in the first place, but more so that he was able to relax and ignore his bodily pains and leg brace and bandages, is the kindest compliment a person can give. When he came in my mouth, I almost started crying — it was very intense for me: an honour and true gift.

Lying as best I could beside him, after, I started to sense how our new relationship would eventually turn out. Everything has changed, but our love is only stronger, and we will turn this scary change into growth.

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Sorry to have gone MIA this past weekend: I was at my “Kissing Cousin’s” wedding, and I left the computer at home, and even forgot my cell phone recharger, so I was truly unplugged for the first time in long while.

My KC is a perv, as is her wonderful new hubby, but it was a vanilla wedding due to the large amount of relatives and work-mates. However, my Master and I were part of a bunch of “perv friends” of the couple (Ted-n-Di, Tim and his “Northernwench,” Midori and Kelly, Natalya and TB, Cyppie and Kayte) and we got seated at the “children’s table” for the reception (i.e., they quite rightly kept us away from the ‘nilla grown-ups!) and we all got kicked out of the hotel bar after the reception (wandering away with our glasses of champagne in hand!) and took up residence in the hotel lounge (with fireplace) getting up to all sorts of shocking behaviours (and we have the pictures to prove it)!

A funny moment was when my Master lifted me up in his arms on the dance floor — I was squealing with delight — and then I felt a hand give a heavy thwack to my bottom — I leaned back to smile at whichever friend had done it, and found myself looking at a horrified Northernwench, who had totally forgotten (and had just suddenly painfully remembered!) that she wasn’t at some fetish event, where hauling off and slapping your mates bottoms was the order of the day! We assured her it was okay, and I really don’t think anyone noticed. Anyway, as the drinking continued, we all got rather rowdier, anyway. There was much fondling of people, and sitting on various people’s laps, and Tim got hauled out onto the dance floor by my Master and Ted, carried on his chair!

And, on the bus-ride home, the back of the bus was filled up with us pervs, and I really don’t think we were discussing things like the local dungeons and upcoming fetish/BDSM events all that quietly…. (Happily, most of the vanilla folk seemed A.) pretty drunk, and B.) a number of them were pretty loud even before the drinking began, so I think while we were all certainly noted and numbered as being “odd,” we didn’t actually shock or horrify anyone!)

While I was AFK for the weekend, the question of the Spanko Brunch over at My Bottom Smarts was:

Suppose you learned through an accidentally overheard telephone conversation that a coworker (someone with whom you cordially deal every day, but not a close friend) has a more than casual interest in adult spanking. No one else in the workplace knows and the person doesn’t know that you know.

Since I’d just been in a group of perverts (spankos, latex-lovers, kinksters of all stripes) within a larger group of vanilla wedding goers, this question really struck home, and reminded me of a very awkward moment in the last job I had. Although it was for a big publishing company, my mother was also working there and was pretty much my direct boss, and the whole office of my fellow workers were friendly with her, so it was not just a vanilla work situation, but a family one to boot!

One day I was in the office around the end of a Friday, and a co-worker said she would be watching Secretary that weekend, and asked if anyone had seen it. Now I, of course, have seen it a gazillion times, and have much to say on the matter, but I sat tight and kept my mouth shut as the people in the cubicles around me chatted about their opinions about the movie, and spanking in general! There was no way I was going to say the things that were running through my mind! Not only could my mom have walked in at any point in time, but anything I said would certainly have gotten back to her!

I do wonder if I’d just been working in a non-family situation, whether I would have admitted to seeing and liking the movie…? I like to live as “out” as possible about my life (as long as it doesn’t offend or upset those around me — I think it’s lovely to be able to be open, but at the same time people certainly have the right to NOT know about my sex life if they don’t want to!) but of course we have all heard stories about people loosing jobs and etc. because of their bosses/co-workers finding out about their home lives.

It can be hard, sometimes, even for me, to have a sexuality that is not part of the accepted “norm,” and to have to hide parts of my life.

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I‘m resurrecting this entry because it seems to have gotten lost in the archives, and I’m about to write a whole bunch more about anal sex, so I thought I’d go over my previous thoughts on the matter. This is from an email to my Master, dated September 9, 2005….

From: Sexand submission.com

Dear Master,

Oh, so much has happened since the last time I posted up here! So many wonderful things for me … but the most wonderful is that I am pleasing you, that you are not disappointed with my progress, and that you want to do more with/to me!

Tonight I shall write about a topic that has been on my mind very frequently since you brought it up, the other night on the phone. Anal sex. Wheeee! – I never get tired of the naughty thrill of saying/typing that!

Here is my history with it, Sir, as of course such a topic can always yield amusing results!

Anal sex was a far from my mind as possible when I first started having sex. I know it must have been giggled about by me and my friends at some point, but I was as generally oblivious to it as someone who just doesn’t think about something can be. It was not even an option, in my mind.

When I was dating I— , he asked me if I would do him a sexual favour (and, I said, “Yes, of course, dear, what can I do for you?!”) and that was when he asked for either anal sex or me to shave my pussy. You know which I chose! I told I— at the time, and I meant every word of it, that “I will never have anal sex!”

Which is what I told C— , he being the next boyfriend. He said he was entirely fine with limiting our sex-life to oral and vaginal delights.

He laughed so hard that if he had not fallen out of bed I would have pushed him, when, a year or so later, I asked him to fuck me in the ass, please!

What happened to change my mind so drastically? Two things: Pat Califia (again, making such a huge imprint on my life) and porn. By this point in time I was rooming with R— , and she and I routinely rented porn flicks to do running commentaries over. At first I was horrified by seeing the seemingly all-too-huge cocks ramming into the all-too-small anuses. But, after a while, it occurred to me that if so many women were doing it, it could not be quite so bad as I was making it out to be! (And the Pat Califia book had anal fisting in it, which did sort of put the whole thing into perspective: “Wow! If a fist can go up there, a cock’s not so bad!”)

So that night, once C— got done rolling on the floor laughing at me and I stopped pouting about being laughed at, we got to it. I have to say for C— that he was always a careful and dedicated lover: therefore, perfect for a first-try at anal. We got the lube, and he got worked his way up to having three fingers up there with me really enjoying it. And then, figuring we’d stretched things out nicely, he tried his cock. No go. A real unpleasant pain came up immediately, and my first instinct was: Get It Out Now!

And it was like that for years. I’d really get off on any number of fingers digitally stimulating me back there, even quite vigorously, but trying later with other lovers yielded continuing unsuccessful results.

Meanwhile, butt-plugs were great! Vibrating or not!

It has been in the past two years that I have come to love the feeling of a cock pushing deep into my ass. The factor that brought results: I suddenly realized that I could play with my clitoris at the same time as being fucked in the ass!

With the pleasurable sensations running outwards from my clit, suddenly the “stretching” sensations in my ass that seemed to occur the most during penile-anal sex and which I had always perceived as painful – became pleasure as well. And the moments in the beginning, when it can seem just “all too much,” before you are opened up enough … while I was rubbing my clit, that pain became a turn-on instead of a turn-off.

Being a “lesbian” (that is, “bisexual in a long-term relationship with a woman”) had really done something weird for my sexuality! When I was sleeping with guys originally, the things that turned me on were … well, mostly, me getting some nice orgasms. But after a period of not sleeping with men, followed by a period of wanting to sleep with men again but feeling pressured not to (A. really was never comfortable with me sleeping with guys, so it was easier to take female lovers — we could share that way, anyway!) and so voraciously re-reading my Victorian erotica and White Shadow’s Nasty Stories (now sadly defunct), I had now become really excited about the idea of guys coming inside me. (I think that in high school I had been so worried about pregnancy that I thought sex was much hotter if all that nasty sperm was contained in a nice latex condom…!)

But now my fantasies couldn’t get hotter than being a Victorian girl who was just coming-of-age, and whose father/brother/uncle took it upon themselves (selfless gentlemen that they were!) to teach me the ars amours. Of course, being gentlemen, they would worry about getting their darling daughter/sister/niece pregnant, so they could twiddle my little quim with their big masculine digits all they liked, but their cocks always ended up in my arse….

And other fantasies. Years of nightly fantasies. I could go on for pages and pages just giving brief outlines! But, most relevant to this topic, suddenly I could care less about my pussy. That was where I was generally getting fucked, but in my mind I was only being fucked in the ass – thinking about anything else wouldn’t even come close to getting me off!

UPDATE: As of today, my fantasies remain anal in theme. In my head, I pretty much only get vaginally-penetrated if something else (ginger, anyone?!) is already stuck up my bottom! And, of course, I’ve learned to appreciate the pains of anal sex, even more than the pleasures: indeed, they have become the pleasure, for me!

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